


Fine Dining

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Poor Life Choices, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: 'Makoto raises a feeble finger. “I don’t think - ”“Oh, he knows that I know. Consider it foreplay for later.” She shoves her glass into his hand. “Have some shochu.”“You can’t be serious. You’re not serious. You’re drunk,” blurts Makoto, face aflame. “I’m sorry, but Kyouko, this is a restaurant...”'Naegi is wingman for Togami on a double date that Togami insists is not a double date, and then things get rather out of hand.





	Fine Dining

**Author's Note:**

> menu here: http://etsu-restaurant.co.uk/_common/downloads/EtsuMenu_AppetiserLunchEvening.pdf

As intelligent as Byakuya is, sometimes talking to him makes Makoto feel like he is talking to a brick wall.

“Togami-kun, what you’re describing sounds an awful lot like a date,” Makoto remarks as Byakuya parks the car outside of the restaurant at a little past seven in the evening. The digital clock built into the dashboard informs Makoto that the journey totalled an hour and a half.

An hour and a half of a news station on the radio, with the last twenty minutes of that also spent discussing whether or not Byakuya is going on a date. That went as well as one would expect.

With the press of a button, Makoto raises the window next to him before he opens the door.

Byakuya’s sat nav switches off with the ignition. He unfastens his seatbelt and drags it off him so he can step out. “Well, I’m telling you it isn’t. It may be a date for you and Kirigiri, but it isn’t for me.”

“What is it for you, then?” Makoto leaves the car and closes the door behind him.

“A social engagement with the purpose of evaluating a particular individual in a comfortable environment.”

“Like Fukawa-san.”

“Like Fukawa,” echoes Byakuya.

Over their heads hangs a blue-grey gradient and way out in the distance glows the warm hues of sunset. Since their last visit, the restaurant hasn’t changed, but to be fair, that only occurred a month ago. Roughly the same number of cars strew the car park as well.

Byakuya clicks the button on his car remote, locking the vehicle, deposits his keyring into a trouser pocket and the pair walk toward the restaurant together. The outside temperature doesn’t call for a coat, and Byakuya shoots a glare at the hood peeking out from underneath Makoto’s old Future Foundation jacket. Makoto doesn’t own another formal jacket and couldn’t obtain one within a single afternoon, which was the time frame given by Byakuya to Makoto in an abrupt request for Makoto’s company when they passed each other in the corridor a bit before lunch earlier in the day that, to be frank, was more of a demand than a request.

Unable to be much pickier, Byakuya wears his dark green suit that he predominantly wore during the mutual killings years ago. Inside the restaurant is slightly warmer than what they arrive from though neither shed themselves of any items of clothing.

Before them stands an unmanned counter boasting a stack of menus and a clipboard, but they leave those alone. Beyond the counter, a slim majority of the tables in the restaurant are unoccupied and not all of them but a few have a reserved sign on them, which suggests that those lacking signs can be taken without prior booking. The people who are here are all adults.

Again, the restaurant hasn’t changed since their last visit, at least to the best of Makoto’s knowledge because he has been to a few restaurants since then, and certain features could therefore understandably be muddled up in his memories of the different establishments. However, this restaurant won Byakuya over, and as the man only accepted the very best for himself, they ended up going here tonight.

Familiar abstract paintings of faces hang on the black and white walls, linoleum tiles maintain their charade of being wooden flooring and a candle in a glass garnishes every table, tried and true. While Byakuya unnecessarily adjusts his already straight tie, Makoto tries to decide if Byakuya would be prepared and make a reservation or if he would expect to be given a seat anyway as a former vice-head of a branch at Future Foundation.

Byakuya looks around. “They better not keep us waiting too long... It would be incredibly unprofessional.”

“We’re not here for work-related reasons,” Makoto reminds him.

At that, Byakuya turns his nose up. “This really isn’t the attitude that a headmaster should have. Don’t you have any self-respect?”

“Don’t get on my case. I’m not even the one who’s late,” Makoto has to point out, with a twinge of annoyance.

“You’re enabling them,” says Byakuya.

Makoto holds in a sigh. He pauses and thinks back to their conversation earlier. “Anyway, so you’ve been dragging me and Hagakure-kun to all these different restaurants to find somewhere comfortable to evaluate Fukawa-san? Is that what you said?”

“Correct,” says Byakuya.

From prior experience, Makoto knows his next question will accomplish nothing, but he says it anyway.

“Why do you want to evaluate Fukawa-san, seeing as we’re not here for work-related reasons?” asks Makoto despite knowing the answer.

Byakuya must know the answer too, but he raises his finger to point and says, “There they are.”

Makoto’s gaze falls from Byakuya’s face, lands on his shoulder and then trails up his arm, all the way to his extended finger before flying off to where two women wander over from further inside the restaurant. As the ladies pass into brighter lighting, Makoto sucks in air and forgets to breathe. Kyouko struts over in a burgundy halter dress that ends an inch or two above the knee. He would be more specific about her outfit but Byakuya steps forward, striking a match against Makoto’s senses, and Makoto stops staring at that particular part of her.

Instead, he focuses on her pink smile.

“Oh, so you are here after all. Good. We don’t have to wait for you.” Byakuya looks at them both but definitely spends more time studying the bun on top of Touko’s head, the indigo dress that she bought with Aoi and Komaru last week and the smile that stretches across her face as her view of him improves.

At first glance, Touko appears to be wearing earrings, but on closer inspection, she has earphones slotted into her ears, and the black wire connecting them that goes under her dress through the neck hole could in passing be mistaken for a strand of hair.

“I got us a table near the back,” Kyouko informs them and she pivots on her heel. A waiter had been striding over to them, but once he sees that the guys are with the girls, the waiter changes direction and hurries off to a couple ready to place their order.

They follow Kyouko past several square tables, all covered with white tablecloths that reach the floor, to a particular square table covered in a white tablecloth that reaches the floor. It has five menus on it, presumably obtained by Kyouko and Touko when they arrived. Around the edges of the room, by the windows, leather couches surround the tables there from three sides, unlike the other tables closer to the centre of the restaurant which have wooden chairs instead, such as the one that the group of four gather around.

All the other tables in the local vicinity are vacant. Kyouko stows her handbag under the table, almost throwing it there, and pulls back her chair.

Makoto raises a hand. “Let me, Kyouko.”

“I can do it myself,” she replies but she lets him tuck her in.

Nearby, Byakuya stops sitting down halfway through doing so and looks over at Touko, who grips the back of her chair, about to pull it out so she can seat herself. He straightens up and marches over so he can haul the chair back for her. Her eyes widen for a moment but she soon relaxes, smiles and sits down.

“Thank you, Byakuya-sama,” she gushes, peering up at him as he slowly pushes her chair toward the table.

He doesn’t reply and takes the chair to her right.

Makoto sits down last and wiggles on the creaky leather seat of his chair. The back of his chair slants away from him at a slight angle, so he would have to lean back noticeably in order to touch it. That doesn't seem like good date etiquette, so he slouches forward a fraction instead.

On the table are the menus, a flickering candle within a glass orb, a pepper shaker, four upside down wine glasses, four sets of chopsticks and finally four sets of cutlery lying on thin napkin mattresses.

Byakuya picks up a menu, glances at the contents and then shuts the menu in the span of five seconds. Everyone else selects a menu, leaving one beside the candle, and the three spend a longer time pondering over the text within. As he has been here before, once, Makoto knows that the menu not in use lists all of the available drinks. The one that Makoto unfolds contains different dishes, all arranged into various categories, with the first being appetizers and the last being desserts.

“Have you decided what you want already?” Kyouko asks Byakuya.

“I’ve eaten here before so I know what I want,” Byakuya replies.

Touko gives a smile. “What do you recommend? I would have gone for beef bourguignon, but they don’t have any...”

“We have different tastes, so you may not care for what I ordered.” Byakuya leans to the side and peers at her menu. She grins and tilts her body toward him, positioning the menu between them and looking at him rather than at it, blinded by his beauty. He points at one of the options. “What about a curry?”

Her nose wrinkles and she pulls herself together. “I’ve eaten enough curry to last me four lifetimes. Even just the mention is making me nauseous...”

Makoto, a curry enthusiast, asks, “How come, Fukawa-san?”

She shivers. “That was the only meal Komaru could make...”

This still holds true.

Byakuya moves back to sit upright in his chair, picks up his menu and opens it again. He skims through it and suggests, “What about chicken katsudon?”

Touko finds it in her menu and nods. "Chicken... Omelette-style egg with onions... on a bed of white rice... If Byakuya-sama recommends it..."

“I just did,” he says.

“... then yes!”

“I have decided as well.” Kyouko sets down her menu. She turns to Makoto. “Naegi-kun, I assume you will be having curry.”

Makoto scratches his chin. Curry does sound quite nice, actually, even if judging by Touko’s face, she doesn’t agree.

“You knew what I wanted even before I thought about it,” he remarks, and he grins. Kyouko matches the movement.

The restaurant offers four different curries. One has various chunky vegetables like mushrooms and carrots, perfect for vegetarians and vegans, while the other three consist of a vegetable curry coupled with either chicken, pork or tuna fried in breadcrumbs.

Byakuya casts his frown away from Kyouko and Makoto, both poring over Makoto’s menu, and surveys the surrounding area. Upon sighting an employee, dressed like the other women working there in a white blouse and black skirt, Byakuya trains his eyes on her. Several seconds go by where she doesn’t notice him, so Byakuya claps his hands. That doesn’t catch her attention either. His lips press together tightly and he waves an arm wildly, occasionally clapping in short bursts around his head.

Everyone but the waitress and the table she is talking to turn their heads toward him. After she has finished dealing with the table, Byakuya barks, “Oi! Over here! We're ready to place our orders.”

Makoto covers his face behind his hands, listening to and not watching the waitresss approach.

“Are you ready to order, then?” she asks.

Byakuya straightens. “Yes. I will be having the tempura mix.”

King prawns with vegetables and dipping sauce.

“A-And I’m having chicken katsudon,” Touko pipes up.

"Any starters?" asks the waitress.

Makoto lowers his hands, restoring his vision.

"Yes," Byakuya answers for them. "Yasai korokke for me."

Vegetable and potato croquettes that have been fried, similar in shape to fish cakes.

Touko laces her fingers together. "The chicken katsudon will probably fill me up..."

He gives her a stern look. "I insist that you have a starter as well. I'm paying, so don't worry about the cost."

"Oh...” Touko wiggles in her seat. “So you do prefer bigger girls after all?"

Makoto almost covers his face again but resists temptation. The waitress slaps on a lopsided smile and glances away. Byakuya raises his hand and for a moment, Makoto thinks that Byakuya intends to shield his face, but Byakuya just pushes up his glasses and slings a glare at Touko, which causes her smile to slip a bit.

She scans the appetizers section. In monotone, she says, "I'll have agedashi tofu, please."

Tofu. Makoto sees what she did there. Byakuya’s expression doesn’t change. He probably didn’t.

"Yep," acknowledges the waitress. She turns to Kyouko.

“Kitsune udon,” says Kyouko, "with gindara saikyo miso."

“Noodles, huh?” Makoto deadpans about her main course, omitting from his remark the fried tofu, seaweed and spring onions that would come with the thick noodles in broth.

Kyouko tightens her lips in refusal to smile at his quip. Byakuya curls his lips in the opposite direction, with no reason to understand their little in-joke.

After her order has been noted down, the waitress locks eyes with Makoto. “And you?”

“I think...” Makoto reads through the curry section again. “I’ll have tonkatsu curry, please." Pork. “And for appetizers... Yakitori?"

Byakuya kisses the back of his teeth disapprovingly. He must not be a guy who likes skewered meat.

"You sound like you don't know," remarks Touko.

"Yakitori, please," says Makoto with more firmness.

“And drinks?” asks the waitress once she has recorded it all down.

“Four bottles of imo shochu will suffice,” says Byakuya. The restaurant offers a range of different beverages, yet Byakuya goes for a sweet potato based liquor.

Makoto frowns. “Togami-kun, if you’re driving home later, then you shouldn’t be drinking.”

Last time Makoto and the guys went on a night out, they had to call a taxi because Byakuya overestimated how much he should drink, and Byakuya and Yasuhiro nearly ended up with matching ‘best friend forever’ tattoos but luckily Byakuya had misplaced his wallet. On that same occasion, Yasuhiro might have got a piercing somewhere hidden, but Makoto doesn’t know if he dreamed that up or if it did really happen, and he doesn’t want to ask.

“What did you say? You volunteer to drive us home after?” Byakuya twitches his head back and leers at him. “Fine, I won’t argue with you, but if you crash my car then I will sue you for all you’re worth. Three bottles of imo shochu.”

The silver lining to this is that it means Byakuya thinks that Makoto is worth something. Makoto considers replying that he never volunteered but he figures that getting tipsy might let Byakuya open up a bit more, and he doesn’t want to ruin the evening for the other two.

"Lemonade, please," Makoto says, ever the martyr.

Touko smirks. “Maybe if you ask nicely, they’ll give you a silly straw.”

Makoto ignores that.

"I would like mine on the rocks," Kyouko pipes up.

"And me," Touko chips in.

“Yep, yep and yep!” The waitress taps her tablet. “Do you want any sides?”

“Seaweed salad in dressing, miso soup and rice,” says Byakuya. His gaze hops between everyone else.

“Rice and miso soup,” says Kyouko first. “Please bring the miso soup out with my starter.”

Makoto shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Me too,” says Touko. “I’m good, I mean.”

Byakuya cocks his head to one side.

“... Miso soup please,” says Touko, noticing.

“And we’ll have some nori as well,” Byakuya adds.

Makoto has never been overly keen on dried foods, seaweed included, so he plans to let the others share the nori without him.

“Right, we’ll bring everything out as they’re ready,” says the waitress. She gathers the menus and wine glasses and strides off with them.

A few of the restaurants that Makoto accompanied Byakuya to over the last few months had music playing in the background. This restaurant is no exception but the music, which sounds techno, doesn’t play at a loud volume. If there are any lyrics, Makoto can’t hear them. He can only discern a bassline and maybe a keyboard. Maybe. It is possible that the keyboard doesn’t actually exist and Makoto is just imagining it. The majority of noise comes from scraping cutlery and conversations at other tables, with the occasional cough, shout and at one point the bang of someone dropping something.

Neither Byakuya nor Kyouko react but Touko jumps at the bang. Makoto flinches and he looks around to see which table the noise originated from, but fails. Touko drops her chin to her neck and lets her shoulders sink.

“So....” Makoto says. The eyes of the other three flit over to him. “How is everyone?”

“Most of the time when people ask that, they don’t want to hear it if the answer is negative,” says Touko.

In the past, she wouldn’t have included ‘most of the time’. For Touko, this is rather optimistic. Makoto tries not to smile because he knows that wouldn’t go down well with Touko.

“Is your answer going to be negative then, Fukawa-san?” asks Kyouko.

Touko shakes her head. “Work is okay. I don’t mind working in the library.”

“Yeah, you seem to enjoy working there,” says Makoto brightly.

“S-Seem?” repeats Touko. She glowers and averts her eyes. “What, is my answer open to interpretation? I told you ‘I don’t mind’. What’s unclear about that?”

Some things don’t change. Not completely, anyway.

“I want to know something, Naegi, and you should be able to enlighten me.” Touko returns her gaze to him. “What sort of family atmosphere did you have growing up? Whenever Komaru comes in to study, she keeps goofing off. How can I focus on my novels and getting everything in order when she keeps balancing pens above her lip line or reading manga concealed in text books?”

“Komaru has been out of education for a while,” Makoto points out, immediately taking the defence on behalf of his sibling. He smiles, but it isn’t completely natural. “Though I think preparing for when she starts high school classes shows that she has become more mature, you know? Attending high school isn’t something that she has to do, but it’s something that she wants to do even if she’s starting it slightly late.”

Touko grinds her teeth together.

“You don’t have to say it, but I know you’re looking out for her too,” he carries on, warmer now. “Those sorts of things shouldn’t bother you if you’re not paying attention to her.”

“Someone has to!” says Touko and her fists tremble violently. “She’s still a child, basically! Not even out of high school! But you wouldn’t think it at times... I’ve had to spend the last month listening to her gushing about Nakajima, all lovesick like she’s going to marry her when she hasn’t graduated or even asked her out yet... Why doesn’t she just ask her out rather than dither...? One of the girls have to do that, don’t they? They can’t just... know... or is there a secret handshake...?”

She shakes her head in distress.

Makoto can’t hold back his grin, much more genuine now, but at least he manages not to laugh. “Didn’t Komaru have to listen to you, Fukawa-san? You’re returning the favour.”

Touko tightens her lips and gives no answer.

“Oh, so are you two finally dating now?” asks Kyouko.

“Excuse me?” Touko blinks.

“You and Togami-kun,” Kyouko clarifies.

Byakuya eyes Kyouko. “What gave you that impression?”

“This is a double date, isn’t it?”

Touko shrieks and jerks back, causing the front legs of her chair to rise. The reflexes of Byakuya and Kyouko kick in quickly and they grab an arm each to tug her back. Her chair tips forward so all four legs touch the floor.

“Be more careful,” Byakuya snaps with no insult tacked on. He retracts his hand from her arm, as does Kyouko, and inclines his head forward slightly. Two fingers push up his glasses. “As for you... This is a social engagement with the purpose of - ”

“ - evaluating a particular individual in a comfortable environment,” deadpans Kyouko.

“... Right,” is all Byakuya has to say.

“That’s a date,” she tells him.

“No, it isn’t,” he responds with strained civility that he had been incapable of until fairly recently. “Not necessarily. When I go see Fukawa in the library, that isn’t a date.”

Makoto knows about these visits from Komaru though only that they exist, not anything more. Apparently, Byakuya and Touko often change subject, stop muttering or move to another section of the library when they notice Komaru’s presence nearby. He trusts his sister but can’t help feeling that she might be not telling the whole truth for the sake of one of them or both of them, if the topics were about certain, private matters.

What a frustrating but considerate sister Makoto has.

Kyouko folds her arms over her chest and Byakuya clenches his jaw. Touko whines and doubles over, plopping her elbows onto the table. She buries her fingers in her hair, which loosens her bun but doesn’t destroy it.

They haven’t even received their drinks yet.

“H-Hey, that’s enough, guys,” says Makoto, reaching one hand toward Byakuya and the other toward Kyouko, who both try to stare the other down and intimidate the other into averting their eyes first.

Byakuya blinks, losing, and frowns at Touko. “Sit up, Fukawa.”

She slowly does, bright red.

After a new entry to the top ten most awkward five minutes that Makoto has ever experienced, the waitress who took their order presents them with a tray. Four bottles sit on top of it, three which are identical, along with four glasses, three containing ice.

“Here you are,” the waitress chirrups. She transfers everything off the tray and onto the table. “Three imo shochu bottles, a lemonade, and two glasses on the rocks. That’s what you ordered, right?”

Byakuya switches off the screen on his phone and checks the labels. “Correct.”

With him satisfied, the waitress picks up a bottle of shochu, holding it in one hand, and with her other hand, she grabs the cap and twists off the top. She does this for each drink and pours them into each glass.

“When will the starter be here?” asks Byakuya when she straightens up, finished.

“Five minutes?” replies the waitress in what sounds an awful lot like a guess. “As soon as it’s ready, we’ll bring it right out. If you need anything else, let me know.”

The waitress swaggers away. She hasn’t gone very far when Touko’s face darkens.

“I bet she lied about her blouse size so she’d be given a tighter uniform that makes her boobs look even bigger,” grumbles Touko, whose comment brings into question her exact sexuality, but Makoto metaphorically bites his tongue and swears that the waitress quickens her pace.

After the waitress has passed several other tables on the way to the kitchen, Byakuya claims the glass of imo shochu without any ice and sips it.

“How is it?” asks Makoto.

“It has a rich, elegant flavour,” Byakuya says. He shakes the glass though not hard enough to spill any drink. “Other shochu, like those that are rice or barley based, tend to be milder. However, unlike many brands of this kind of shochu, this one is suitable for newcomers... It’s somewhat sweet, with an aftertaste of melon...”

Kyouko retrieves one of the glasses and Touko copies her, beaming at Byakuya. Makoto’s lemonade has a hint of lime and it’s a bit more sugary than he’d prefer but overall, not bad.

He drinks slowly so as not to not finish it too quickly. Though he still has a good amount left in his bottle, he doesn’t want to have none by the time they receive their starters. Of course, he could order another, but Makoto has found that drinks bought in restaurants tend to be more expensive than those in the shop and yes, Byakuya is paying, but being the heir to the Togami Conglomerate doesn’t mean as much as it once did.

“So how long have you two been dating for now?” asks Byakuya between gulps.

“Almost two months,” Kyouko says before Makoto processes Byakuya’s question.

“It took you long enough,” Byakuya remarks. “I could tell that Naegi was head over heels for you all the way back during our confinement in Hope’s Peak.”

She lowers her glass from her lips, brow furrowed. “Actually, my feelings for Naegi-kun took root before then, when we attended Hope’s Peak as students. Enoshima erased our memories but strong emotions lingered... I could feel anger at the headmaster, my father, and I felt... drawn to Naegi-kun for reasons I couldn’t explain.”

Makoto’s mouth creeps ajar.

Kyouko doesn’t look at anyone as she talks. She strokes gloved fingers behind her ear, combing through hair. “If I’m honest, I was bothered by what I felt, and I didn’t understand it until after I witnessed Naegi-kun’s execution. In my life up to that point, that sort of thing always came back to bite me in the end. People come, people go... but Naegi-kun taught me that I can keep people with me, here.”

‘Here’ lies under her hand placed over her heart. For such a closed off person, talking at this much length about these kinds of emotions must be a struggle, but Kyouko pushes through it, determined to be unashamed, and Makoto doesn’t dare interrupt.

“When Future Foundation restored our memories, my feelings felt more complete and the gaps in it filled in, but I had already answered certain questions about them by myself. It was only recently could I do anything about them, what with how much has been going on.”

By this point, her cheeks have started glowing a cute pink. Makoto and Touko nod.

“Y-Yes!” Touko says, cradling her glass. “That’s... why I fell so fast for Byakuya-sama back then. I wasn’t falling in love, because I already had over the two years we already knew each other that we couldn’t remember. I was rediscovering my feelings, and rediscovering how incredible he is...”

Byakuya, holding his glass to his mouth, narrows his eyes.

She puts down her glass and hugs herself. “Now... I can remember... our past... ha ha...”

Makoto and Kyouko exchange looks.

“Yes... our past...” Low laughter leaks out of Touko. “Ah... but I promised... not to tell...”

Kyouko and Makoto turn their attention to Byakuya now. Byakuya clears his throat and puts down his glass, which is already almost empty. The thud snaps Touko out of her trance and her eyes dart over to him last.

“You went into more detail than my question warranted, but I suppose that can’t be helped,” says Byakuya with a smirk that dissolves as his expression sobers. He can’t dispel the faint colour in his cheeks, however. “You better not let it become a distraction to more pressing matters, Naegi and Kirigiri.”

“It?” repeats Kyouko.

“Your feelings,” Byakuya clarifies.

“Right,” says Kyouko. She lets a beat of silence pass between them. “Actually, I want to rewind a little. Fukawa-san, did you promise Togami-kun not to tell anyone about something that happened in the past, then?”

Touko hisses and balls her hands into fists that jiggle in front of her.

“This is strictly between us! Especially what happened while we were locked up!” says Touko, and she seizes her glass and glugs down the liquid contained within. She splutters and coughs then breathes out loudly as she finishes draining it and slams the glass onto the table.

Miraculously, she doesn’t break it.

“Idiot!” says Byakuya, ever the gentleman. Makoto whips his head around and sees that Byakuya is staring down at his lap, hand wet and the glass held in it not as full as it was a few moments ago.

Byakuya’s chair rasps as it lurches back as he stands up, revealing his damp shirt.

“Fukawa,” says Byakuya stiffly. Touko tenses and meets his gaze. “Don’t just sit there twiddling your thumbs. Come with me.”

She clasps her hands together. “N-Now? In the open?”

“What?” He hesitates. Realising, he snaps, “I mean come with me to the bathroom. You can pass me tissues.”

Not waiting for confirmation, he marches off in the direction of the bathrooms. Touko scampers after him, slowing down once they’re side-by-side. Makoto and Kyouko, along with several nameless people nearby, watch their trek until the pair disappear through a door that leads to the bathrooms. The door by itself isn’t interesting, nor is it interesting when including the sign labelled ‘bathrooms’ on it, so during the next few seconds, everyone goes back to the small world that exists around their tables.

Kyouko and Makoto grin at each other, wordlessly agreeing how ridiculous the other two can be sometimes.

Often.

Touko and Byakuya haven’t returned by the time the waitress arrives with their starters.

“Gindara saikyo miso, yakitori, miso soup, yasai korokke, and agedashi tofu?” says the waitress.

“Yes, that’s us,” Makoto confirms. “Our friends popped to the bathroom, but they’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll just leave them here then,” says the waitress with a shrug, and she departs with an empty tray.

Makoto peers down at his yakitori, wondering if they should wait until Touko and Byakuya return. He was given three skewers and the chicken they are inside, garnished with black and white seeds, have a gentle sheen due to the teriyaki sauce coating them. Kyouko eyes the pieces of black cod glazed in miso sauce on her plate. The majority of each codpiece is an orange-brown, with patches of yellow and a black edge. Because she doesn’t eat, he doesn’t either.

After thirty seconds, he rests his cheek in his hand, puffing his cheeks out in impatience. He checks his phone for the time, and over the next three minutes, continues to do so at short intervals.

“Do you think one of us should check on them?” Makoto finally asks, looking at the door where they last saw their friends.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” she replies.

“What do you mean?” he says, turning toward her.

She has her arms crossed over her chest.

“Don’t you find it strange that Togami-kun would do something like spill his drink on himself because Touko put down her glass too harshly?” she asks.

He rubs his eyebrow. “That is a bit odd... but it’s not that odd, is it? I jumped a bit as well when she did that.”

“What about him demanding Fukawa-san go with him?” Kyouko persists. “Togami-kun, a man, asking Fukawa-san, a woman, to go to the bathroom with him to clean up...?”

Makoto drops his hand from his face. Two of the bathrooms here contain several cubicles in the same room, with one bathroom for men and one bathroom for women. Touko and Byakuya are different genders, so they can’t go into the same bathroom unless they went to the bathroom for disabled people which is unisex...

... and contains just one cubicle, which would offer more privacy than the other two customer bathrooms.

“K-Kyouko,” says Makoto, “do you think...?”

“This is just guesswork, not a climax inference,” she replies. She picks up her chopsticks. “We may as well start without them... Here, Naegi-kun, have some of my miso soup with your yakitori. Its savoury taste will complement the chicken.”

“All that cooking you’ve done for me really paid off,” he remarks as he takes Kyouko’s bowl of miso soup from her.

After they have eaten half of their starters and refilled their glasses once, Byakuya and Touko arrive at long last, both with flushed faces and in higher spirits than they had been when they left the table. The blotch on Byakuya’s shirt has faded but is still there and his trousers are too dark for Makoto to be able to tell if they got any dryer, assuming that they had been caught in the spillage too.

“Oi. My eyes are up here,” says Byakuya.

Makoto’s heart leaps and he quickly adjusts his gaze. Byakuya’s face is unwelcoming.

“You’re back,” says Makoto.

“Did you start eating without us?” asks Touko with a sneer as she sits down.

“Yeah. Sorry,” says Makoto. “We got kind of hungry.”

And tired of waiting for them. He doesn’t say that out loud.

She pulls on the black wire of her earphones to expose a dial that had been hidden behind her dress and increases the volume. Afterwards, she tucks it away.

Byakuya rolls his eyes and buttons up his jacket to hide the faint patch on his shirt before sitting down as well. Makoto sneaks a look at Byakuya. Eyes aimed downward, Byakuya cuts his croquettes with a knife and fork, disclosing the carrots, peas and sweetcorn in its soft filling.

“Your collar is crooked,” Kyouko points out, saying what is on Makoto’s mind. It isn’t particularly off, but on someone as usually well-dressed as Byakuya, it stands out, and it doesn’t help that his hair seems to have become tousled during their trip.

Something akin to fear flashes in Byakuya’s eyes. In a cool voice, he says, “Oh?”

“Let me.” Touko reaches over to fix it. Then she sits properly and picks at her agedashi tofu.

Kyouko lets a minute pass. “You smudged your lipstick as well, Togami-kun.”

The red tint in Byakuya’s cheeks had distracted Makoto from Byakuya’s lips. Byakuya dabs at his mouth with a tissue and then continues eating.

Makoto finishes his starters first. Next is Kyouko, though Byakuya is slicing up his last croquette when she lays down her chopsticks.

“Surely you’re not full yet,” Byakuya remarks to Touko, who hasn’t even finished the first of her three blocks of agedashi tofu. “Or do you not like it?”

She picks them up again and prods one of the untouched blocks. “I like it! You can depend on me. I’ll eat it... even if I burst...”

Byakuya clicks his tongue and leans toward her. Makoto doesn’t know what he expects to happen, but if someone had got him to write a list of predictions, the possibility of Byakuya taking her chopsticks straight from her hands and feeding her the rest of her agedashi tofu would have been thrown in as filler and not included if he had to narrow his guesses down to a smaller number.

“Here,” Byakuya says. Touko’s mouth pops open and she obediently eats the piece of agedashi tofu pinched between the chopsticks. For the remainder of the tofu, he uses a spoon, and Touko simpers as she bobs her head during each bite. Though the tofu is crispy on the outside, inside is warm and soft.

Makoto wants to kick himself for not offering his girlfriend some of his yakitori. He turns to Kyouko but then experiences a chill as cold as her expression.

“Kyouko?” Makoto says.

“Hm?” she goes inattentively.

Byakuya meets her eyes for a moment. His pink cheeks almost trick Makoto into perceiving his smirk as a smile.

“Is something wrong?” asks Byakuya.

“No.” Kyouko pours the rest of her shochu into her glass.

“Will you be needing more?” asks Byakuya.

“I’ll be fine,” she states coolly.

“You don’t have to worry about what’s inside of my wallet,” Byakuya says, though maybe someone should. Byakuya works a nine-to-five job but he isn’t as rich as he once was. “I’m not going to cry for some spare change. However, seeing as you chose the most expensive starter for yourself, I don’t think you are concerned.”

“Guys, that’s enough now,” says Makoto with firmness that makes everyone do a double take. “Didn’t we agree that we’re supposed to be in a comfortable environment?”

Their silence suggests agreement.

The phenonym of Byakuya feeding Touko, who apparently he is not dating, is something that Makoto struggles to look away from for more than a few seconds at a time. When only one block of tofu remains, Byakuya notices Makoto and glares at him, so Makoto decides to suddenly need to check his phone.

Prickling scratches at the back of his eyes that tries to coerce him into spying on them again. Requiring a bigger distraction, Makoto sends Kyouko a game request for hangman.

Kyouko’s phone buzzes. She retrieves it from her purse, sends a text that simply says, ‘English only,’ and accepts the request.

Makoto goes first. His word contains six letters. He has been trying to learn more English recently, while Kyouko has a grasp on it already from her time abroad.

Kyouko: A?

The penultimate letter is ‘a’

\- - - - a -

Kyouko: E?

The second letter is ‘e’.

\- e - - a -

Kyouko: I?

The fourth letter is ‘i’.

\- e - i a -

Kyouko: S?

A horizontal line appears.

Kyouko: N?

The third letter is ‘n’.

\- e n i a -

Kyouko: Denial?

The rest of the letters fill in.

Kyouko hides her smirk behind her hand, but not before Makoto gets an opportunity to glimpse it first.

Her word contains eight letters.

Makoto: A?

A horizontal line appears.

\- - - - - - - -

Makoto: E?

A vertical line appears above and creates a right angle.

Makoto: I?

Another horizontal line appears above the first one, connected to it by the vertical line.

Makoto: O?

The fifth letter is ‘o’.

\- - - - - o - -

Makoto: U?

The third letter is ‘u’.

\- - u - - o - -

Makoto: L?

A short vertical line hangs from the top horizontal line.

Makoto: T?

The second letter is ‘t’.

\- t u - - o - -

Makoto: M?

A circle appears below the shorter vertical line.

Makoto: F?

The circle develops a vertical line that hangs from it.

Only three more incorrect letters can be given now.

Makoto: H?

The vertical line grows an arm.

Makoto: G?

The vertical line grows another arm.

Makoto: R?

The penultimate letter is ‘r’.

\- t u - - o r -

Makoto: D?

Now it has a leg.

Makoto: S?

The first letter is ‘s’.

s t u - - o r -

Makoto: C?

It develops its final limb.

Kyouko’s word is ‘stubborn’.

Makoto’s face creases as he holds in laughter. Unfortunately, a snort comes out.

“What are you doing?” asks Byakuya sharply. Touko’s bowl only has a puddle of soy sauce in it now.

The answer is nothing dodgy, so Makoto opens his mouth, more than happy to explain, but Kyouko gets a word in first.

Several words.

“Couple things,” she says. “Because we’re a couple.”

“What, things that aren’t appropriate to share at the table?” asks Byakuya.

“It depends on what you deem appropriate,” she replies.

He squints.

“I assume holding hands is?” she says.

At some point, Byakuya slipped the hand closest to Touko under the table and it is impossible for him to raise it inconspicuously, but he tries to by acting like he only lifted his hand so he can wipe his palm on his hair.

“It has to be something lewd,” Touko accuses, and she reveals her hand, the one closest to Byakuya, from under the table so she can point at them. “Like sexting!”

Kyouko purposely doesn’t deny it and merely sips her shochu, provoking Touko into mouthing words that Makoto can’t decipher.

Then, after she has calmed down a bit, Touko fidgets her hands and asks, “Do you think dinner will be here soon?”

“Quite soon,” Kyouko replies.

Touko frowns and stands up.

“I... need to go,” announces Touko, with a hand over her stomach. “To the... bathroom. Before dinner arrives.”

Makes sense. No sarcasm there, or there, or there. “Okay,” says Makoto.

A strange smile tugs at Touko’s lips, that oozes and kind of blends into her rosy cheeks. She prods the tips of her index fingers together. “Ah... Byakuya-sama... I’ve forgotten where the bathrooms are.”

“Already?” says Kyouko.

Byakuya’s lips contort into the same shape as Touko’s, only less pronounced.

“Follow me,” he says. He quickly rises and turns his head away, trying to prevent them from seeing his face, and marches off almost immediately. Touko jogs after him and keeps up beside him.

Once again, they disappear through the door to the bathrooms. What can best be described as a growl escapes from Kyouko.

Makoto blinks in her direction. “Kyouko...?”

“If Togami-kun wants a duel, then so be it,” she says.

To refer to it as a ‘duel’ might be extreme, but the pair do seem to have some kind of scoreboard going on that takes into account things that range in as petty as guessing the right answer first in an episode of Blue’s Clues to Byakuya working underneath Kyouko in the fourteenth branch at Future Foundation.

But anyway. A duel, she had said. Makoto’s stomach flips. “What?”

Kyouko licks her lips.

“Get under the table,” she tells him.

“What?” he says again.

Her eyes twinkle like the dancing flame in the candle on their table. Like the saliva on her tongue. Like the shine on her glass that holds the remainder of her shochu.

“Drop your fork, go under the table and stay there,” she instructs. “Then, while you’re there...

She speaks next in a whisper.

“I want you to touch me,” she says. “No one will see. The tablecloth goes all the way down and no one is at a table near us. I can keep a good poker face.”

“What the hell?” Makoto says.

Kyouko scrunches up her face.

“If Togami-kun thinks he can keep going into the bathroom to make out with Fukawa-san,” she says, and Makoto can’t refute what she claims to be happening, “while we sit around passively... and if he thinks... he will put me in some kind of place... then he is mistaken.”

Makoto raises a feeble finger. “I don’t think - ”

“Oh, he knows that I know. Consider it foreplay for later.” She shoves her glass into his hand. “Have some shochu.”

“You can’t be serious. You’re not serious. You’re drunk,” blurts Makoto, face aflame. “I’m sorry, but Kyouko, this is a restaurant...”

Her eyes widen. “And I have a fetish for secretly getting off in public. Have some shochu.”

“K-Kyouko!”

Had he been drinking the shochu when she spoke again, he would have choked on it because of what she said. Makoto hunches his shoulders and finishes the shochu in her glass, and Kyouko refills it with some of Touko’s shochu.

“I’ll buy her another bottle,” Kyouko assures Makoto’s incredulous expression.

The idea of going under the table starts to appeal to Makoto, more because he would be able to hide his burning face that he doubts would cool before Byakuya and Touko return than because of it being foreplay for later, whatever ‘later’ might be. However, even after another half a glass, he doesn’t move, so Kyouko snatches his fork and drops it. Using her foot, she pushes it under the table.

“It will be your spoon next,” she warns.

“... If they’ve been on the floor, I won’t want to eat with them,” he points out. “I can just ask for a clean set. You know that, right?”

“Naegi-kun...” She strokes her ear. “I must confess... that I have thought about doing this before. Not seriously, but now...”

Oh God.

“Now you’re drunk,” he says, and he isn’t too far off from that himself.

“Not really. Just... bolder. I have a buzz. I can drink more than Togami-kun can before I get properly drunk. Look, if you don’t do it, I will. It’s either me or you,” she tells him, “and we know you wouldn’t last a minute.”

Makoto wiggles. “How long would I have to stay there for?”

“Until they leave. Or the end of the meal. Please, Naegi-kun.”

Should the first criteria be fulfilled, judging by how long Touko and Byakuya stayed at the table between their two trips to the bathroom so far, he won’t be under the table for a great length of time. Makoto sighs and pretends to hunt around for his fork when really, he crawls over to her legs and kneels in front of her. So he can see, he activates the torch function on his phone and hitches up her dress. Her chair grunts as she shifts it closer to the table, and she lifts her hips temporarily to make his job easier while holding onto the tablecloth to help ensure that no one on the outside can witness what is going on.

Once the front of her dress has been hiked up, she sits back down, as close to the table as possible, and spreads her legs, exposing her black panties. Or a shadow. He aims the torch directly at the area in question.

Black panties it is.

His stomach gurgles, prompting him to text Kyouko about his food getting cold if he stays down there for long enough. Her phone buzzes and his buzzes not long after.

‘You can eat dpdn there.’

Makoto suspects that the fourth word is meant to be ‘down’. He stares at her panties, unsure what to do or what Kyouko expects from him. They haven’t done anything beyond make out and hump each other with their clothes still on. The hentai that he has read doesn’t shed much light either, focusing more on the guy receiving pleasure and girls saying “b-but we’re both girls!” as they grope each other behind floating flowers.

A minute later, he still hasn’t moved, and his phone buzzes again. Makoto reads his latest text.

‘Thighs, panties then underneath. Also take your phone off vibrate.’

He obeys and puts his phone on the floor. His heart pounds so hard that he swears he can feel it in his head too, between his ears. Following her advice, he kneads her bare thigh with one hand. Kyouko tenses but only for a moment. She relaxes and it prompts him to massage more firmly. Initially, he doesn’t stray far from his chosen spot, but as he grows bolder, he diverges more though stays on her thigh.

Maintaining the pace of that hand, he raises his second to spoil her other thigh and tells his crotch that he is just touching her legs. Don’t get him wrong, he finds her legs incredibly attractive. They’re pale, with some muscle. Not as much muscle as Aoi’s, which could almost certainly crush a watermelon between them, but he nonetheless adores his girlfriend’s legs.

Kyouko doesn’t emit any noise. The number of times her legs twitch dwindles. Either she has as strong composure as she assured him and as he knows, or the treatment on her thighs isn’t stimulating her. Or both. It could easily be both.

Determination roars in his chest and against his better judgement, he decides that he wants to seep through her stoical exterior and let the world view her softer but no less strong side. His hands creep up her thighs, which causes them to tremble, and he presses his thumbs against the black fabric between her legs. They aren’t silk panties. As he rubs, he feels slight fuzz. Her legs jerk, spurring him on to hold down one thigh with his hand while his other works with more force.

A whimper is his first victory.

“Excuse me,” says someone who sounds like the waitress from before. Makoto freezes. “Did you order...?”

“Yes, those are ours. My friends went to the bathroom,” says Kyouko evenly. There might be a waiver to her voice, but Makoto’s imagination might be adding that because of his awareness of where he is and what he’s doing. He shows leniency and doesn’t move his hand.

“Again?” asks the waitress.

“The first time, they were doing some emergency clean up,” Kyouko explains.

“Ah. Well, I’ll leave everything here, okay?”

Makoto listens to them set down tableware.

“Thank you,” says Kyouko.

“Tell us if you need anything,” the waitress says, and then no one says anything so she must have gone away.

Kyouko reaches under the table and strokes the hand that Makoto has positioned on her thigh. He nods even though she won’t see it and resumes rubbing her panties. Occasionally, his fingers press particularly hard, and the third time he does this, he pinches and her legs shake either side of him. This encourages him to tweak that spot again and push at it in circular motions.

Without warning, she squeezes Makoto, and he hesitates, fearing that he hurt her. Then she says, “You’re back.”

Realisation hits swiftly. His stomach drops and a nervous tremor runs through him that leaves his heart racing.

“What sort of greeting is that?” comes Byakuya’s disembodied voice. “What, are we interrupting something? And where’s Naegi?”

Their chairs whine as they take their seats. Makoto looks over his shoulder and sees their legs protrude as they tuck themselves in near the corner of the table between their seats. Light seeps in through the small gaps between certain folds in the tablecloth but is mostly from the touch of his phone aimed upward. He notes that they are sitting a lot closer to each other than before, and that they are tucked in almost as much as Kyouko is.

“Hagakure-kun locked himself out of his apartment and his mother won’t answer her phone, so Naegi-kun took a taxi and is driving over to give him a spare key,” lies Kyouko.

Byakuya bumps his knee against Touko’s leg. “Why didn’t you let him wait until his mother was free or after the meal?”

Makoto shifts closer to Kyouko, fitting between her legs more snugly. However, he keeps his eyes on the other two. The table is big enough that the only ways that either of them would be likely to discover his location is if they duck under to find their bag or if Touko stretches her legs out.

He struggles to swallow without drawing attention to himself.

“You know what Naegi-kun’s like,” Kyouko remarks. “Always willing to help those in need. He left just before dinner arrived, which wasn’t that long ago...”

“Should we wait for him?” asks Touko.

A pause. “Let’s not,” says Kyouko. “We didn’t wait for you earlier.”

Makoto turns back to Kyouko and wonders if she realises that ‘we’ includes her too. In a heated moment, he drives two fingers against her panties, as far as he can go with the article of clothing in the way. He doesn’t pull back and slowly twitches his digits. She recedes but swings back soon after, just like she is innocently getting more comfortable.

Someone, either Touko or Byakuya, crunches on a strip of nori. The background techno music muffles the quieter, subtler noises, like cutlery lightly scraping and chewing that must inevitably be going on. Makoto catches gulps and slurps and thuds of glasses being put down as he plays with her panties and the area concealed by them. No one says anything for a while, which heightens his awareness and makes his hair stand on end because he could be overheard if not careful, but he can’t deny that the risk, the danger, excites him. Sends a thrill through him.

“How is the chicken katsudon, Fukawa?” asks Byakuya. “It’s not greasy, is it?”

Touko smacks her lips. “I can’t taste any grease at all! It’s juicy, but not greasy. I love... love... love it!”

Speaking of juicy, Kyouko’s panties feel slightly wet. Whether it’s his sweat or she’s the culprit is so far undecided, so to confirm, Makoto slips his fingers underneath and wiggles his way in, deeper and deeper, getting more and more coated in liquid with every minute movement. Kyouko’s thighs clamp around his hand and she wiggles, relieving tension from sitting against something hard to anyone else who may be watching. His face prickles in a new wave of heat but he doesn’t back down. No, he slicks his finger in her, biting down on his lip.

“So I chose well then,” Byakuya says with his usual standard of modesty. “I always choose well.”

“You always choose well,” Touko agrees. “The restaurant... The meal... The company...”

“Garnish it with some of my nori. The crunchiness will be an excellent contrast to the tenderness of the chicken.”

Makoto smiles at their high spirits and flicks his finger up to a spot on Kyouko that has her tense, and the sensation that he induces rolls up her, throwing up a shudder that ends in her coughing into her noodles.

“Yes?” says Byakuya. “Did I say something amusing?”

“You’re making it sound like you made the meal, when you simply recommended the chicken katsudon to her,” explains Kyouko, not needing to come up with a reason as to why she coughed because he provided one for her.

“So what?” snaps Touko. “That’s still important, isn’t it?”

Because Makoto is meant to be away helping Yasuhiro, he can’t try to refuse the situation as hot as the tingling that builds in Kyouko’s core. He can’t feel it himself, but he can feel some of it in how she grinds her inner thighs against him, in the tremors that scuttle in her thighs. Even when keeping his hand still, as he does now, listening to their conversation, she moves around him, subtly but making every movement count.

“Actually,” says Kyouko, “never mind.”

“We won’t then,” Byakuya replies.

They eat again and Kyouko’s squirming ceases. Makoto questions himself on whether they should give up, or at least, postpone this game to somewhere more private, with just the two of them, but Kyouko strokes his arm with her leg and he knows to continue.

“I know why she’s on edge,” remarks Touko.

Kyouko doesn’t respond. Byakuya, however, does.

“Why?” he asks.

“Kirigiri doesn’t like being the third wheel,” explains Touko.

He clicks his tongue. “She can’t complain. I can’t count the number of times those two made me their third wheel. If I have to sit through another meeting where they’re accidentally overfilling their cup because they’re too busy staring into each other’s eyes...”

“One is typically a third wheel when they’re accompanying a couple,” says Kyouko. “On a date. So you admit this is a double date?”

“No, because we’re not on a date,” Byakuya snaps. “This is a social engagement with the purpose of evaluating a particular individual in a comfortable environment.”

Makoto winces, imagining how Touko must be deflating.

Kyouko rolls her hips against Makoto’s hand, acting like she is just sitting up to give off an air of authority and professionalism. “Togami-kun. Normally, I would let you believe the roundabout excuses you tell yourself, but I don’t want Fukawa-san to keep getting hurt by your denial and stubbornness. Your family is dead - they’re not here for you to have to deny having feelings to or justify having feelings to. Or do you plan on pining for a certain pair of dark grey eyes in the middle of the night for the rest of your life?”

“I am not going to be psychoanalysed by someone with father issues,” says Byakuya with likely no room to talk.

Her legs jerk. Before Kyouko can escalate the situation, Makoto pokes and enters a finger inside of her. She jolts and, judging by the slurp of noodles seconds later, she disguises the reaction as her continuing to eat. His finger almost slips out of her so he plunges it in deeper to prevent this. Her inner walls hug his digit so he pumps slowly, barely able to believe that he is doing what he is doing, even now.

“Must you eat so noisily?” asks Touko in a change in topic, of some relief to Makoto.

“Eating noisily shows that I am enjoying my meal, doesn’t it?” asks Kyouko. “You have your earphones in, so your misophonia shouldn’t be too triggered by it.”

“I don’t want to make myself deaf,” hisses Touko.

“I will eat quieter then,” Kyouko replies with no ill-will, and true to her word, she does.

As Makoto rocks his hand, Kyouko taps her feet against the floor but doesn’t utter any vocalisations, or at least, nothing loud enough for others to pick up on. Like she said previously, she could maintain a stronger, better poker face than Makoto.

He never doubted her, of course.

“Fukawa, eat this prawn,” says Byakuya after a while, so he can’t be too drunk, then, because he usually starts referring to people as foods or countries that sound similar to their names when he is.

One of their chairs squeak and Makoto quickly looks over his shoulder, ready to lean away, or shuffle over to another part of the table if warranted, and goes rigid. Touko has one hand under the table and it isn’t her lap that it is on but Byakuya’s. More specifically, it is on Byakuya’s thigh. Makoto slows his hand as he takes in the scene. Shortly after, Byakuya rests his hand over Touko’s.

For one naive moment, Makoto thinks that Byakuya intends to swat her away, but he instead guides her in rubbing his thigh. Now, this image would be like when someone stares at a bright light for too long - it will be burned into his thoughts for some time in the same way that the light burns into one’s vision, but then Byakuya either allows or brings Touko’s hand to his crotch, thereby threatening to scar Makoto’s thoughts permanently.

“Ah, it’s so big,” Touko remarks as she fumbles but ultimately unzips his fly.

Byakuya can’t be drunk enough to permit this.

She unfastens the clip on his trousers.

Please.

“It’s a king prawn,” Byakuya informs her. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“I... I don’t know if it’ll fit,” she says.

Makoto wishes that he hadn’t wanted to give Byakuya the chance to loosen up, now that he sees that it would mean also loosening his belt. She presses her fingers against Byakuya’s crotch, adding in occasional circular movements, until she decides to grip him and tug repeatedly.

“I’ve dipped it in sauce so it will slide in more easily,” Byakuya assures Touko, his voice giving away nothing.

“In that case...” Touko trails off and goes, “Ah...!”

When Touko first makes contact with the prawn, she produces a delighted hum, and the noise melts into a moan as she savours its taste. Despite the music, Makoto can hear food crunch between her teeth, but of his five senses, he currently uses his sight most. Her hand dips into her companion’s underwear and immediately knowing what she plans to do next, Makoto turns his head forward before she can expose Byakuya’s... before she can expose Byakuya.

Focusing on his breathing, Makoto crooks his finger to a rhythm in his head that matches his heartbeat. The first several taps don’t elicit much of a reaction, but around the thirty second mark, he strikes an angle that has Kyouko twitch in her seat and immediately busy herself with another cocoon of noodles. He doesn’t know if Kyouko is aware of what is happening between the other two, but unless she comments on it during the meal, she will have to wait until later to learn of it.

“Is that tofu there with your udon?” asks Touko.

Kyouko doesn’t say anything, but he can assume that she nodded.

“To... fu,” says Touko. “Togami... Fukawa. To... Fu...”

“Is that why you ordered agedashi tofu as your starter?” asks Kyouko, notably winded.

Touko just laughs. It resembles a giggle.

“If you like it, we can make some together later,” Byakuya slurs.

“Make... tofu... together...?”

He just snorts. It resembles a giggle.

Makoto frowns and adds another finger, thrusting them in unison. Kyouko pulses against him and he tries to find that spot in her that caused her to jump in her seat.

“We can make a lot of tofu later, while we watch a movie at your place again. Bullet Ballet, maybe? I have the next draft of my latest project ready for you to read too. And for dessert, we can eat some rice candy together,” Touko purrs, and Byakuya accidentally groans.

“What was that?” asks Kyouko, either about the sound or what Touko declared.

“Don’t worry about it,” Byakuya replies.

“Are you all right, Togami-kun?” Kyouko persists.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I got... a cramp.”

He laughs. Touko joins in.

The answer satisfies Kyouko and they resume their meal. Makoto squints, hearing movement behind him that he definitely doesn’t want to investigate. He experiments instead, sliding and waggling his fingers until he finds an angle, probably the same as before, that forces a gasp out of Kyouko.

“What was that, Kirigiri?” asks Byakuya this time, putting emphasis on her name.

Makoto crooks his fingers again, earning a similar gasp from Kyouko as before.

“I swallowed some noodles wrong,” she lies.

They continue eating and Makoto decides to be merciful for a bit by resting his hand. During this pause, he becomes aware of a dull ache in his wrist. Makoto has no idea how long he has been down there. He removes his hand from her thigh and slowly fiddles with his phone. Approximately twenty minutes. Not bad.

Maybe. Makoto doesn’t know if that is good or bad. He will have to ask Kyouko later.

In the corner of his vision, he sees something flesh-coloured that hopefully is only Touko’s hand and not what she clutches. With a grimace, he averts his eyes, about to turn off his phone’s screen, when he sees that he has two missed calls and three texts from Yasuhiro. His brow furrows and he almost gives into temptation, but Kyouko nudges him impatiently, pretending to exercise her leg, and only stops when his hand between her legs ceases being stationary, so he puts his phone down and lets the screen turn off by itself.

When Makoto had stopped to rest his hand, he thought he was being merciful to her.

“Hey...” Touko says. “Shouldn’t Naegi be back by now? I mean, his curry will be cold.”

The thought of his perfectly good curry going cold could break Makoto’s heart.

“There must be traffic,” says Kyouko.

Byakuya scoffs, “It wouldn’t surprise me if he got lost. Anyway, I need the bathroom. Fukawa, come with me.”

Makoto hears their hands bumble under the table and then the inhale of Byakuya’s zip ascending. Their chairs screech as they are shunted back. He finally looks in their direction again and only sees tablecloth, as both Byakuya and Touko have got up.

“Fukawa-san, do you need to go again?” asks Kyouko unnecessarily, because Makoto is more than happy with that arrangement. His stomach agrees with a rumble, having been separated from the range of foods with their range of smells for far too long.

A chill shoots down him. To be caught at the last moment would be cruel, but Touko just says, “Yes.”

After thirty seconds, by which time Makoto feels confident that they have gone, he retracts his hand from Kyouko and gives his two soaked fingers a suck. With a sweet tang in his mouth that he finds hard to regret, he pokes his head out. He blinks at the change in lighting, dizzying colours around him.

“Naegi-kun,” says Kyouko. “You should go back.”

“Until they left, that was the deal,” Makoto reminds her. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. “But don’t worry, I will finish you off later. Man, I can’t believe we got away with it. Kyouko, that was....”

His eyes focus on a pair of hairy shins right in front of him. Words die in his throat and rot, tasting like vomit, as he lifts his head and looks up.

“Uh, Naegi-chi?” says Yasuhiro, the proud owner of baggy shorts and two unshaven legs. “What are you doing down there?”

“Me?” Makoto retorts. “What... I mean, what are you doing here?”

“You wouldn’t pick up your phone so I texted you to let you know that I’d meet you here,” explains Yasuhiro. “My ma’s on a date with Takaaki-chi, and my cupboards are all, like, totally bare, so I figured I could join you guys, ‘right? Took a taxi and everything.”

He narrows his eyes in confusion.

“Hey, weren’t Togami-chi and Fukawa-chi meant to be here too?”

“They’ll, um, be back soon. They only went to the bathroom,” says Makoto.

“Sure.” Yasuhiro pinches at the remaining nori and feeds himself some. “Those guys are real elusive sometimes. Is this all you’ve got left? If you answered when I called, Naegi-chi, then I could have eaten with you guys. You should check your phone more, you know.”

“Sorry,” says Makoto.

Not content with just the nori, Yasuhiro inspects the rest of the leftovers. Touko has eaten most of her katsudon while Byakuya left a king prawn and a few slithers of fried asparagus and mushroom. Makoto’s curry quickly draws Yasuhiro’s attention, and Makoto feels a pang at the sight of his untouched, once perfectly good curry. “Is this your curry, Naegi-chi?”

“Um...”

Yasuhiro grabs a fork and tastes some. “Hey, it’s not warm at all! Weren’t you hungry? Or did you fill up on something else...?”

Kyouko raises her hand toward Yasuhiro. “Naegi-kun filled himself up on the appetisers. We planned on heating up the curry later.”

Even when tipsy, Kyouko proves to be able to improvise as well as ever.

“Yeah,” agrees Makoto, fighting down a nervous laugh. “On the way back, we’ll get you something to eat, Hagakure-kun. I had my phone on silent, and...”

“Whatever you say, man. I’m not going to bite the hand that offers me a free dinner,” says Yasuhiro, and he grapples Makoto around the neck in a headlock. “You can give me the deets another time, ‘right?”

No, not ‘right.

Kyouko holds onto her elbows. “As soon as Togami-kun and Fukawa-san return, we’ll head off.”

“Yes,” says someone, who when the three turn their heads, they discover to be a security guard accompanied by Touko and Byakuya, the former hanging her head in shame and the latter staring up at the ceiling like he has no association with either of them. “You will be heading off.”

If Makoto didn’t feel so dead inside, he might have laughed, but corpses can’t laugh, so he didn’t.

Behind the security guard, their waitress from the evening smirks.

* * *

“And I would do it again,” Byakuya drawls after they are escorted out of the building.

“Give it two years and they’ll forget what you look like,” says Yasuhiro as he walks over to Kyouko’s car with her keys. “I’d grow a moustache to be safe, though. Man, it’s a bummer that your double date ended like this...”

Byakuya glowers. “This was - ”

“ - a social engagement with the purpose of evaluating a particular individual in a comfortable environment,” says Yasuhiro. “We know... We know.”

That earns no reply from Byakuya.

Nearby, Makoto just wants to go home and hide away for a year or two, or more realistically a few hours. He opens the door to the driver’s seat of Byakuya’s car. Kyouko sits on the other seat at the front, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, while Touko has curled up on the seat behind Kyouko and stares out of the window beside her.

“So, Togami-kun,” says Makoto before Byakuya can open the door and get into the back with Touko. “Why did you want to evaluate Fukawa-san?”

Byakuya hesitates.

“Curiosity,” he says vaguely, and when he enters the car, he sneaks his hand over to Touko’s, like a moth to a flame.

Makoto grins and gets in too, as the sky outside slowly fades to black.

**Author's Note:**

> 100th upload!! This was a semi-nsfw request that got too long so I'm posting it separately.
> 
> To celebrate, I stuffed this full of references to some of my other fics.


End file.
